Chapter Two
Selina fizzed with barely contained excitement as she hurried into the grand ballroom a step behind her best friend, Lady Anne—or just Anne—as she was allowed to call her in private.
They exchanged a knowing look, and Selina had to clutch her fan painfully tight to stop herself from grinning like a fool.
The opulence of the Duke of Beckton’s ballroom was even grander than she had imagined, and she couldn’t wait to dance below the glittering chandeliers.
Selina’s eyes had been dazzled by Elms Park since they’d arrived that morning, but the ballroom was particularly stunning. The ceiling had been painted with exquisite celestial murals, the angels in heaven watching them with sweet, beneficent smiles.
Every sconce and stick of furniture was gilded.
Huge panels of periwinkle blue adorned the walls, interspersed with the grand paintings of the duke’s predecessors.
The wooden floor was decorated with chalk drawings that currently depicted nymphs frolicking in a woodland but would soon be blurred by the dancers’ feet, which Selina always thought a shame, but it was better than slipping on the polished wood.
Anne’s parents entered first. They had graciously secured an invitation for Selina to join them at the Duke of Beckton’s house party.
To be fair, it was hard not to invite her, as she was currently living with them during the Season as Anne’s special friend and companion.
But she was grateful all the same, as it would have been horrible to be left behind, even if only for a couple of days.
Selina hated to be left alone. It reminded her too much of her childhood and always made her sad and fearful.
She shook the unwelcome thought from her mind, as the butler announced them with a clear and booming voice. ‘Lord William Kesgrave, Earl of Eastbourne, Countess Catherine Kesgrave, their honourable daughter Lady Anne Kesgrave…’ He paused, ‘And their guest, Miss Selina Mortimer.’
The powdered and feathered heads of the assembled aristocracy gave a respectful nod as they entered—not for Selina, of course, but for Anne’s family.
‘I cannot believe I’m here!’ gasped Selina, accepting a glass of fruit punch from a passing footman. ‘It’s all so…spectacular!’
Anne gave a delicate little shrug, her pale blue gown the perfect shade to bring out the gold in her curls, as well as her strawberries-and-cream complexion.
In contrast, Selina had chosen a vivid crimson gown. Hoping it would complement her caramel skin, and pay homage to her mother’s Portuguese heritage. She supposed some would consider her darker colouring a fault, but Selina liked to think it set her apart from the other young ladies.
After all, why be pretty when you could be memorable?
Besides, Queen Charlotte was related to the Portuguese royal family, so there was nothing to be ashamed of—as Aunt Mary regularly reminded her—even if Selina’s mother had been far from royal. She’d died when she was young, but she still remembered enough to love and miss her.
Selina lightly patted the chocolate curls piled on top of her head, checking surreptitiously that her matching crimson feather was still upright and firmly in place, which it was.
She wanted to look her most alluring tonight, which was why the bodice of her gown was indecently low and heavily beaded.
One of the proud mamas raised a brow at her, but Selina didn’t give a fig—as long as her father wasn’t around to see her, she didn’t care.
Thankfully, her admiral father was back in Great Yarmouth with his beloved ships, and Selina could do as she pleased—which was to try and tempt a London gentleman of reassuringly substantial means into marrying her, Mr Chadwick ideally.
A man who had finally met all of her conditions.
Until now, she’d been far too picky, according to Anne, which was why she was still unmarried at twenty-six.
But Selina was determined to choose her life partner wisely.
In fact, marriage was the only area of her life where she had forced herself to be cautious.
After all, Selina wanted her future to be entertaining, comfortable and loving—preferably in that order.
Mr Chadwick was her greatest hope for a match that met her requirements.
He lived in London and regularly attended balls and soirées, which implied he loved parties as much as she did.
Wealthy too, which meant he could provide a comfortable life for her, and not penny-pinch on pin money like her father.
With Mr Chadwick, she would never worry for her future or that of her children.
Finally, her beau of choice was charming, sweet and attentive—he liked her—and she knew that she could easily grow to love such a man who fulfilled so easily her first two prerequisites.
Yes, Mr Chadwick was an ideal suitor…if she could catch his eye.
Pulling up her French kid gloves, she juggled the grip on her fan, glass and reticule while she set them to rights, glancing eagerly around the room looking for either Mr Chadwick or the man that Anne had set her cap for—a much grander man than sweet Mr Chadwick.
‘Anne, do you think the prince has arrived yet?’ she asked, not needing to use Anne’s title as the earl and countess had already left them to talk to their friends, which was a common occurrence at social functions.
Anne was the youngest of six children, all of whom were now fully grown and married, leaving Anne very much alone as the last, forgotten chick in the nest.
Anne had taken an instant liking to Selina two years ago, when she’d kept her entertained during a particularly dull soirée.
Since then, Selina had become an informal companion, and this was her second London Season spent with the Kesgrave family.
Selina suspected Anne enjoyed her company as a distraction from her parents’ lack of interest in her…
something Selina could very much understand and sympathise with.
‘I hope not!’ Anne whispered back, ‘I was rather looking forward to his grand entrance. Aren’t you?’
‘Rather!’ Selina nodded eagerly in agreement and sipped her punch. ‘It’s not every day we get to meet a prince of Thrudheim, let alone two! I hear the youngest prince is also attending and equally handsome. Oh, I do hope they both dance with you.’
Anne preened with delight at the suggestion. ‘Well, I have a cousin in Thrudheim, and she insisted in her last letter that Prince Magnus is looking for an English lady to be his bride. So I am certainly in the running!’
Selina gave a little squeal of excitement and then had to juggle her punch and reticule when her fan slipped. She’d been practising her fan signals in the hopes of charming Mr Chadwick later. ‘If you become the princess of Thrudheim. Then you must let me come and visit you!’
‘Of course! I shall request that you become one of my ladies-in-waiting!’
Selina nodded eagerly in response, but only because she didn’t want to appear rude.
The truth was she couldn’t think of anything worse than going to live on a lonely island in the North Sea.
The principality of Thrudheim sat between Norway, Denmark and England.
She doubted much happened there. Certainly not any of the excitements and distractions that London had to offer, and Selina did love London, far more than Mr Chadwick if she were honest.
‘Perhaps I will charm a certain Mr C with my seductive gown tonight. Then I can honeymoon in Thrudheim with you!’ Selina said cheerfully after a pause.
She’d been so pleased when her father had increased her allowance that she’d immediately ordered her most daring gown yet.
She was a little disgruntled that Anne hadn’t complimented her once.
But she supposed finery came so easily to Anne that she probably hadn’t noticed Selina’s little splurge of extravagance.
Anne glanced at Selina’s heaving bosom. ‘It’s certainly revealing.’
‘My décolletage is my best and only asset. I have to show it off!’
Anne giggled. ‘True, and you are certainly doing that.’
Selina’s smile turned brittle, but she forced herself to brush off the offence.
After all, she wasn’t half as beautiful as Anne, who looked like a Grecian goddess with her tall, elegant figure.
Selina was short but had enough curves to catch a gentleman’s eye, although sadly they’d never led to anything beyond flirtation.
Perhaps her requirements were too high? Aunt Mary and her father certainly thought so… She wondered if Anne agreed with them, despite her encouragement regarding Mr Chadwick, who had ten thousand a year despite lacking a title.
Not that Selina cared for titles.
Unlike Anne, Selina’s father was not of noble blood.
Sir John Mortimer had received his baronetcy not long after achieving the rank of admiral, due to hard work and years away at war.
Her dowry wasn’t overly impressive nor was her lineage.
In fact, her father liked to proudly reminisce about his privateering father, who’d paid for his son’s commission with stolen goods.
Still, her father had had a long and illustrious career, and she was close friends with an earl’s daughter, which meant she could go to all the best parties and balls despite their lack of noble blood.
Her aristocratic friends thought her witty, and she always had a dance partner—probably because she was such cheerful company, if not a typical English beauty.
Anne gasped beside her, drawing her attention away from musing about her limited attributes.
Every neck in the gilded ballroom swivelled towards the two sapphire-and-silver princes who stood at the entrance of the ballroom.
At the sight of them, Selina inhaled sharply as if she’d bounced over a steep hill in a rickety carriage.